


Strange Congress

by NoelBlue



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Andraste Statue, Chant of Light, Dream Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 16:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoelBlue/pseuds/NoelBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian gets his hands on on the naked statue of Andraste from the Black Emporium, and has a sexually unsettling and restless night. Was it a dream, or has he been the subject of holy seduction?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Congress

**Author's Note:**

> From a Kink!Meme request asking for some naked Andraste statue lovin'.

"Here you go, good ser," Orthin the Shifty said, holding out the cloth wrapped bundle with a smile. "Just like you ordered, one naked statue of Andraste fresh from the Black Emporium."

"Be quiet, man," Sebastian said. He looked left then right to ensure the streets were still empty.

Orthin chuckled and Sebastian grimaced. Despite his name the man could be trusted to leave with a bundle of money and return with the desired item, but Maker he was loud. "Why be ashamed, good ser? You paid good and proper for it, and I don't blame you - she's a beaut, she is. I must admit to maybe taking a wee tweak of those fine-"

Sebastian winced at the thought of this dirty, scraggly specimen touching Andraste's breasts. "Here's your pay. Now off with you."

Orthin didn't appear to take offense; he pocketed the coin and smiled in a way that was far too knowing for comfort. "Enjoy!" he said, winked broadly, and then went down the stairs with a distinct spring in his step and a tuneless whistle that echoed off the nighttime stones of the grand buildings of Hightown.

"I'm sorry to put you through that, my lady," Sebastian said in a whisper and hugged the package closer.

Then a wave of absurdity washed over him - what was he doing, talking to a statue? And a truly vulgar one at that. The whole affair had obviously muddled his mind.

It started when he visited the Black Emporium with Hawke. The sight of a curvaceous, naked, sensual Andraste placed right near the entrance had offended his senses so completely he had made an oath to obtain and destroy it as soon as he was able. The cost was exorbitant and getting the coin together had taken some tricky maneuvering with his family's accounts throughout Thedas, but finally it was done and the blasphemous, beautiful thing was his.

Only for a short while, of course. He would need to destroy it as soon as possible, ideally the next day. His compatriots could never discover it was in his possession. Hawke was always gently teasing him about his chastity, making improper remarks and taking too much pleasure in making him blush. She was an improper woman in general, really, a force as a fighter and a true champion, but also a temptress with impure thoughts and a scandalous body. Not that this had to do with anything. But what would she say if she knew he now owned the naked Andraste statue she had chuckled so heartily over in the Emporium?

Sebastian never wanted to find out.

He entered the chantry through the back door, thanking the Maker in many creative ways that everyone was abed, and ran up the stairs to his chambers. There were few brothers in the Kirkwall chantry, and the men's wing was near empty.

Perspiring lightly, Sebastian carefully placed the statue on the ground. When he stood back and stared at its swaddled figure he found the dirty rag Orthin had used offensive and utterly unbefitting holy Andraste.

"You should only be clad in raiment worthy of you, great lady." He crouched on his haunches and carefully undid the light ropes to throw aside the filthy fabric with a 'tsk'.

She truly was an image of perfection. With breasts that only the bride of the Maker could boast, tapering to a waist and out again to womenly hips that flowed to her perfect, kissable feet, those nibblible toes...

"Maker," He pulled back his hand from where it had been trailing along her form like his fingers burned. His erection strained against his trousers, and he flushed with the recognition that the statue had, once again, drawn him in.

"Tomorrow I will be rid of you," he swore. He thought of his original plan to destroy her and winced. As vulgar as a naked Andraste was, he couldn't help but think that it was still a grave image of the prophetess and thus might be an affront to the Maker to destroy her. No, that wouldn't do.

"I will give you to the chantry! Elthina can put you in the vault." He was pleased with himself for the idea, and would tell the Mother that he had obtained the statue for that very purpose; it was obviously blasphemous for a naked Andraste to be out and about in the world, there for any lowlife who walked into the Black Emporium to oogle and 'tweak'.

Pleased with his decision Sebastian disrobed. Opening his cupboard he pulled out his nightshirt, and was about to put it on when he turned to the statue. It was a hot night, and he would be warm enough without covering.

Instead he wrapped it around Andraste, covering her nakedness while doing his best to not touch her seductive peaks. He then turned firmly away and climbed onto bed.

As he started to fall asleep he felt his right hand drift in the direction of his cock. "No," he told himself sternly, and placed the offending limb at his side. Resisting the urge to pleasure himself was no easy task and he failed often, but as a lad he had made the oath to fight the sinful pull of desire with all his strength, an oath he took seriously.

Despite his attempts, however, he fell into a restless doze with the distinct feeling of fingers wrapping around his prick -

"Sebastian."

He jerked upright at the voice, a sheen of sweat on his body. "Maker," he swore. Then he blinked several times, sure that he had gone mad.

Before him was a woman. Not just any woman, a woman so beautiful it was staggering. Long hair swung over her shoulders, hair of a color that he couldn't place. One moment it seemed light, shimmering like wheat in the morning sun, and the next it was a jet black, thick and depthless as night. Her face, however, was constant, with features sharp but beautiful, the planes of her face contrasting with her warm, welcoming expression and the smile that lit up her light eyes. He skin glimmered and shifted, as if she was both in the room but not, a shimmering vision that stepped from beyond the fade into his chambers.

She was also, he noticed through a haze, wearing his nightshirt.

Sebastian jerked backwards, pressing himself against the wall. "Who are you?"

"You know who I am, Prince of Starkhaven. I am your one true bride." She opened her arms wide and his shirt, hung open, showing the swell of her generous breasts. When she took a further step forward Sebastian attempted to push himself further back into the wall to no avail - it was unyielding.

"This is a dream. A horrible, unholy dream of lascivious sin sent to test me. No, to punish me for having that statue here, for my impure thoughts." He closed his eyes and started to pray, grasping for the chantry of light. " Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall end-"

"I come to be with you," she said in a gentle voice, and his prayer choked in is his throat. "and to bless you with the most sacred of my benedictions." He fought but failed to keep his eyes closed as they opened he saw her lifting her arms and pulling his night shirt over her head, dropping it to the floor before moving another step closer.

" Andraste," he moaned. His eyes, traitorous orbs that they were, drank in the sweet perfection of her body, the curves of her waist down to the legs and the lovely mound between them, the curly dark hair not concealing the ridges of her entrance. "Why do you tempt me so?"

She laughed sweetly, and placed a leg on his bed and leaned towards him, her breasts and hair swinging forward. "Because you chain yourself in needless celibacy, my sweet, and bind yourself to impossible ideals that will fail you and leave you in frustration." she placed a hand on his thigh and gently but firmly pushed his legs down. Now between his thighs, propped on her knees, she was inches from him. Although all his senses rebelled against the possibility he swore he could smell her, that like a human woman she had a subtle, intoxicating musk that stunned his senses and destroyed his resistance. He brought his head forward.

"This is the most holy of rites," she murmured into his lips and then kissed him, the taste of her filling his mouth and causing him to whimper and his tongue to dart forward. He relaxed and she shifted their bodies as their lips continued to dance. The sins of his youth rushed to his aid and his hands reached towards her torso and grasped greedily.

She pushed and Sebastian found himself on his back, the perfect weight of her against him with her breasts pressed against the muscles of his chest. He could feel her nipples brush his, a sensation that made him twitch his hips, his throbbing cock pressing into her thigh. He felt an answering wetness against his leg that quickened his breath.

She pulled away from their kiss. "You are my husband, Sebastian." As she smiled down at him she lifted her hips and wrapped those ghostly fingers around his cock, guiding him inside her as his hands reached out and buried themselves in the silky skin of her hips. "My most faithful love."

"Oh, maker, no, no..." He said in a groan of exquisite dismay and absolute pleasure, the wet, tight perfection of being inside her making him want to come then, finish the agony of this most strange of tortures.

Fingers pressed against his taut stomach. "Wait for me, love," Andraste - by the Maker, who else could it be? - said, voice soft but words firm. "Ride me to the crest of pleasure, let me reach the true heights with you." She began to move her hips. "Do not let me go until we are there together."

Sebastian grit his teeth against the pressure, the scream of his body to come, and focused on the necessity of pleasing his goddess, flexing the muscles of his ass and thighs to push upwards and meet her rhythm.

She did not move slowly for long, soon pressing against him with more urgent strokes, making noises that indicated she was pleased with his hardness, making him work harder, straining with his whole being to give her what she needed, what she demanded. Her breasts swung above in time with her hips and he reached out, feeling the pliable warmth with his fingers. "Heavenly flesh," he said in awe.

She smiled at that and lifted a hand to place over his and squeezed, as if offering an invite for him to be rougher, push harder.

He did so and she reacted in kind with a small, high hiccup of pleasure, hips moving faster and in a shallower, more insistent motion.

He felt the muscles that surrounded him tighten in small, powerful spasms, and he placed his hands again to her hips to push up harder while he released himself from the mental vice he had put around his own ecstasy.

"Oh, Andraste," he said, his voice guttural as he lost control of his hips, waves of pleasure and sensation filling his vision with lights. "Maker, yes, yes, oh yes-"

"Sebastian," she said, her voice bright and triumphant. "Oh, my beautiful prince, my faithful knight and brother!" Her voice rang out like a battle cry through the stones in his room and he yelled in concert with her, their voices mingling and the light lifting him to a place so perfect and holy that it could only yield itself to perfect darkness.

***********************  
Sebastian groaned as the sunlight hit his eyes, piercing through the curtainless window of his room. He winced and put a hand on his forehead as a knife of pain lanced through his skull. "Maker's balls," he swore, then winced at the blasphemous curse, one had hadn't used since his early days as a Chantry ward.

He threw his feet onto the floor.

And stopped.

There across the room was the statue of Andraste, basking wantonly in the morning sun. She smiled that same familiar, inviting smile, shameless in her nakedness.

Before her in a pile lay his nightshirt.

The visions of the night before rushed back to him, and he put a hand to his stomach and groaned. He felt the dried proof of his midnight expulsions, and his crusted, crumpled sheets bore further witness. The room also smelled like sweat and unmistakably like sex, like a woman had been there with her natural perfume. No, not a woman - Andraste, with her heavenly scent, her voice ringing in his ear as she sang her release...

"I have gone mad," he said to himself, running his hands through his hair. "I have sinned so thoroughly my brain is addled."

It was a dream, of course. A vivid, disturbing dream brought on by the folly of having that damned figurine in his chambers. He had sinned against Andraste in his mind, and it was his own fault. He would be rid of her as soon as he returned from Hawke's errand, the one he had promised to accompany her on.

He thought of her then, the Andraste of his mind, and her yielding wetness and her words of love and there was a stirring from his groin and - "No, I must stop this." He was too old to let the demons of lust take him over so completely.

Sebastian opened his door to grab the fresh wash basin left outside his door by the chantry servants, and cleaned himself, keeping his back modestly turned from the statue.

He dressed himself and refused to look at her, his brow furrowed resolutely. She was but a statue, a figure, and thus she could not hurt him. Sebastian believed that.

Still, it was a great relief to close the door behind him and lock it, knowing he would be safe from her seductions for at least a few days.

He strode to the central Hightown courtyard; it bustled with merchants, customers, and all other classes of Kirkwall citizens moving about in the morning sun. Hawke, Varric, and Isabella awaited him there, and chatting idly next to a fountain.

Hawke smiled and straightened. "Wonderful, he's here."

"What ho, chantry boy!" Varric greeted him.

He nodded as he joined them and avoided all of their gazes. Hawke, he saw out of the corner of his vision, watched him closely.

"Are you all right, Sebastian?" She said and placed a hand on his arm. "You look rough. I did prefer all rogues for this job, but if you're unwell I can always ask Aveline if she'd-"

"No, no." Sebastian shook his head and carefully took his arm away. "I did not sleep well, that is all." He looked up and attempted to smile at her - and his face froze, his mouth half-open.

"What?" Hawke said, eyes wide. "Is something wrong? You are unwell, aren't you? Don't lie, Vael. You're pale, paler than usual."

"I am fine." He managed to choke out, and turned and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth.

The vision of Andraste he had ravaged - she was the absolute image of Lady Hawke, down to the sardonic, charming gleam in her eyes and the high cheekbones that bunched into pleasing circles when she talked.

How could he have missed it?

"Sebastian?" She repeated. Even the voice - by all that was holy, even her voice was the same, the only difference being found in execution, Hawke's tones brusque and concerned as opposed to throaty, gentle, seductive. And her smell, oh, that smell...

"Maker, I have sinned," he started, and fell to his knees to pray.

"Someone," Isabella noted, "has been thinking things they shouldn't be. Unholy, dirty things. I wonder if he'll tell us what they are."

"Don't get your hopes up, Rivain," Varric said. "Last time this happened he took a week-long vow of silence."

"Oookay, then." Hawke lifted an eyebrow, and with a shrug turned to the others. "Come, let's grab a pint at the Blooming Rose; he can come get us when he's done. If he's not there in two hours we'll grab Aveline."

"Just a pint?" Isabella said.

"Just a pint; keep it whore-free in there. We're already short on time."

"You can be such a disappointment, Hawke."

"I know; I never let you have any fun."

They turned and left Sebastian behind them, on his knees and rocking as he began his first of many cycles through the Chant of Light.

Fini.


End file.
